


the only game in town

by thisbluespirit



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1960s, Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Loneliness, Loss, Monopoly (Board Game), Romance, Snowed In, Winter, implied mentions of suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 10:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Edward Iveson wasn't enjoying the prospect of being snowed in alone at his family's holiday cottage, but a double-booking brings Julia Graves to the door and changes all the rules of the game...





	the only game in town

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo square "hypothermia" and the genprompt_bingo square "hurt/comfort."

Edward had been questioning the wisdom of his decision ever since he’d set out that morning. His plan to avoid the fuss of New Year by spending it at the family’s holiday cottage in Kent had seemed like a good one at the time, and he’d been reluctant to change his mind despite the forecast of snowstorms.

He moved away from the fireplace where he’d been kneeling, satisfied that he’d finally got the fire going. It was silly, he thought, trying to brush coal off his hands and then misusing his handkerchief to do the job properly. He’d come here, when he could have stayed with his relatives, safe and warm, just because he was stubborn. He laughed at himself. Still, if he did get snowed in, he’d have no problem with supplies – his aunt and uncle had been here last, and they’d left it well-stocked enough to feed an unexpected horde. Besides, there was also the Fords’ farm further up the hill if he got desperate. 

About to sit down and rethink his plans for the week – there wouldn’t be much walking after all – he stopped, hearing the sound of a car outside. He frowned and crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain to squint into the darkness, but all he could see was the snow beginning to fall more thickly.

He was about to go out and take a look when he heard the back door being pushed open with difficulty, followed by a soft thud and then someone walking across the tiles of the kitchen.

Edward froze in irrational horror, before taking hold of himself. The only people who had keys to the place were his family and John Ford from the farm, none of whom were particularly alarming. He left the window, hurrying over to the living room door, before halting as another, more unwelcome, thought struck him. If his cousin Nancy, or Uncle Ted had come after him in this weather, what could have happened? Unpleasant possibilities raced through his head.

“Hello?” he called out, emerging into the narrow hallway. “Nan? Is that you?”

He found himself face to face with a stranger as emerged out of the kitchen, framed in light in the doorway. She pulled up short and let out a shriek, then clapped a hand to her mouth and took several steps backwards. “My God,” she said, while he stared. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“This cottage belongs to my family,” he said, keeping still, and his voice level so as not to alarm her further, although he was tempted to demand to know what the hell _she_ was doing here. “I’m Edward Iveson. I came here for a bit of peace and quiet – maybe even some walking. How about you?”

She edged forward again, one hand on the doorframe, watching him. She was in her mid twenties, hair golden in the light from the kitchen behind her, and her coat, though warm, was stylishly red, not the practical clothes of a countrywoman. The more Edward looked at her, the more improbable it seemed that she should be here at all.

“Edward Iveson?” she said, brow furrowed. “Oh,” she said, her face clearing. “Mrs Taylor’s son?”

Edward nodded. “Yes. I take it you know my Mother, then?”

“Not very well,” she said. “But I know your Aunt Anne, and I think you know _my_ mother. My older brother too. I’m Julia Graves.”

“Ah,” said Edward, relieved to know that he wasn’t hallucinating. “I begin to see the light. Yes, I know Christy, a little, and Mrs Graves. But what are you doing here? I was told the place would be empty over New Year.”

Julia gave a short laugh. “So was I. But you were here first – I’d better go. You’ve got a car out there, haven’t you? If it’s not too much trouble, you could give me a lift to the station.”

“I could,” said Edward. “I don’t think you’d want me to, though. Even aside from the weather out there, which I don’t fancy, the last train has already gone. And if this gets worse, the way it’s supposed to, there might not be any tomorrow, either. Even at the best of times, there are only about three coming and going a day.”

Julia stared back at him. “It’s only Kent. It can’t be that bad. I could go to the pub – if there is one.”

“There is, although I’m not entirely sure whether they’ll be, er, prepared. There’s a farmhouse just up the hill, though,” he said. “I don’t want to get the car out again in this – I’m pretty sure it’d die on me – but I could walk you over if you don’t want to stay here.”

Julia paused. “Oh,” she said again, and looked at him.

“If it helps,” said Edward in carefully neutral tones, “if I meant you any harm, I’d have to answer to both our mothers, your brother, _and_ my aunt afterwards. I don’t like the odds. Besides which, I don’t, I promise.”

She bit her lip and then looked up with a reluctant laugh. “Very true. Which goes for me, too, I suppose. My mother,” she added, “always calls you Poor Ned. Not very threatening at least.”

Edward closed his eyes momentarily and tried not to wince. He could hear Hanne Graves saying it. “Yes, well,” he said, stifling his annoyance, “what do you think? There is a spare room.”

Julia gave a nod.

“Then I’ll fetch your case,” he said, then in relief at having something to do rather than navigate his way through this unexpected complication, moving past her as he spoke. “I was just about to make some tea. Would you like some?” 

“Thanks,” she said.

He found her case in the porch and carried it to the foot of the stair, and then set about seeing to the tea while Julia leant against the door and watched.

“You can go on into the living room if you like,” he said, pouring the water into the pot.

“It’s fine.” She watched him pour the tea through the strainer. “Why don’t you just use a tea bag?”

Edward failed to keep back the wince this time. 

“I thought you’d be that sort,” she said, pressing her head back against the door frame and laughing. “I’m sorry.”

He passed her one of the cups and led her into the other room, stifling irritation. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘that sort’ but he could guess. She wouldn’t be the first person who’d accused him of being stuffy or dull. Her brother Christy had once gone so far as to say priggish.

“Your aunt promised me no one would be here over the holidays,” Julia said, perching on the arm of the nearest armchair. She took a cautious sip from the cup while resting the saucer in her lap. “How did this happen?”

Edward shrugged, and then laughed. “Well, I asked Nancy – my cousin, Aunt Anne’s eldest, you know?”

“Yes.”

“And she said it’d be all right. I assumed she’d checked with everyone else, but maybe she thought I already had. Aunt Anne must have forgotten, or she’d have said something this morning.”

Julia shook her head. “You lot ought to make yourselves a chart or something.” She took another sip of tea. “Your aunt wouldn’t have been trying something, would she?”

“I’m sorry?” said Edward, before catching her meaning. “Oh,” he said, and considered the possibility himself. Aunt Anne had been telling him he should come down for the weekend more often and she’d find people to introduce him to. He’d even tentatively taken her up on the suggestion. He put his tea down on the low table in front of him. 

“Matchmaking,” Julia said. She grimaced.

“Not Aunt Anne. Not like this. Now if it had been your brother, that would have been another matter.”

Julia held onto her tea and carefully slid from the arm into the seat of the chair. “Unkind,” she said. “Although he probably would think it’d be funny. Except he has nothing to do with it, so I suppose it must be a mix up.” She balanced the cup and saucer on the arm, and fished around beside her. “What on earth –?” She pulled out a battered shortbread tin and shot Edward a questioning glance. “Yours?”

“No,” he said. “But people are always leaving some about the place. It’s practically a tradition. Help yourself if they’re not too soft. How is Christy, anyway?”

“Making wild plans as usual,” said Julia, taking a bite of soft, crumbling shortbread. “Not involving us, though.”

 

Once Julia had finished her tea, Edward carried her case upstairs and showed her the spare room. The bed hadn’t been made up, but everything had been left ready in the cupboard, and Edward promised Julia the loan of the hot water bottle, before taking himself back downstairs while she settled herself in.

He picked up a book, but failed to focus on the words, and put it down again, staring into the firelight. It was a nuisance, of course, but maybe the snow would ease and she’d be able to leave in the morning. If not, maybe it would at least be more interesting than sitting around here alone. Why _had_ he thought that was such a good idea?

He raised his gaze to the doorway, picturing her standing there again; the image vivid in his mind. It had been a shock, then a relief, then a shock again, that was it, and she _was_ rather attractive. His hand went to his book again and he laughed softly at himself, his mouth twisting a little at the memory of her staring back at him. She clearly hadn’t seen anything to like, even given the awkward circumstances. He wasn’t sure she wasn’t being actively hostile – there’d been that cut about ‘Poor Ned’ and then the tea. In the usual way, he didn’t mind being thought boring: one could get away with quite a lot if people thought one not worth paying attention to.

It hurt, though. For some reason, tonight, it hurt ridiculously. It really was about time he tried a little harder. He _would_ take up his aunt’s invitation, once this winter was over. Aunt Anne was discreet and thoughtful, and anyone she introduced him to would probably be worth meeting. They might not think any better of him than Julia currently did, but he could try.

He was distracted from his musings by a yell from the kitchen and, startled, he shot out of his chair, running into the other room. “Julia?”

She was standing by the stove with a small saucepan in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other. “What _is_ this?”

“What is what?” he said, scanning the kitchen for anything that could possibly have caused her outburst. It all looked as usual to him – stove, work surfaces, cupboards, the ill-fitting sink at the end.

Julia waved at the stove with the milk bottle. “How am I supposed to do anything with this museum piece? Is it Victorian?”

Edward grinned and moved forward. “How dare you,” he said, “it’s not Victorian. I have it on good authority that Aunt Daisy had the original range replaced when she inherited it back in the thirties. That’s a modern stove. Just not as modern as us.”

“I wanted some cocoa,” said Julia. “I brought some, so I thought I’d nip down and make some and then – this!”

“The trick is not to let it go out,” Edward said. “Which I haven’t. Now, put the saucepan there, pour the milk in, and it’ll heat up.”

Julia did as he said, pouring the milk in, but she shook her head at him. 

“Well, at least there’s a bathroom these days,” he said. “And electricity in here.”

Julia held his gaze. “Yes, why is there only electricity in the kitchen and the porch?”

“Oh, God, I don’t know,” said Edward. He wandered over to the sideboard and opened another stray tin of shortbread and bit into one. “I think Uncle Ted said something about the plaster and it being complicated. I don’t know. And somebody let the telephone get disconnected in the autumn. But all the plumbing got redone about two years ago when the boiler was put in.”

“So we’re in the twentieth century at least,” Julia said. “Just not quite 1962, let alone 1963. I hope it does stop snowing soon. I mean, I’m sorry – I realise you’ve tried to be helpful, but I had no idea what I was letting myself in for.”

 _Neither did I_ , thought Edward, watching her.

 

Julia opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar cracks in the white ceiling, taking a few moments to get her bearings. The mattress was too soft and she seemed to have sunk down into it, but on such a chilly morning, that didn’t feel like a bad thing. She tugged the bedclothes closer around her and listened intently for any clue as to where Edward Iveson was. She wanted him out of the way before she risked going into the bathroom in her nightie and dressing-gown.

It was otherwise very still and quiet, so it didn’t take long to realise that the sounds of movement and cupboard doors banging downstairs must be her current housemate. Julia braced herself for the cold, and flung back the covers before giving a squeak and leaning over the side to find her dressing gown where she’d carelessly dropped it the previous night.

A quick look out the window showed only that it was still snowing thickly and the sky was ominously dark. She sighed, and headed off to the bathroom and tried to decide whether her original plan to escape into the countryside alone was worse, or being stuck here with Edward was. He seemed all right, but it was terribly awkward, and she’d already been regretting the impulse that had brought her here, even before she had found that she wasn’t alone.

By the time she was dressed and made it down to the kitchen, Edward was dishing out porridge.

Julia raised an eyebrow. “You’re very domesticated for a man.”

“I live alone,” he said after a pause. “There’s a lady who comes in every other day, but I’d be in trouble if I couldn’t manage breakfast. Do you want some, or would you rather have an egg and toast?”

She accepted the porridge, and thanked him meekly, while mentally kicking herself. After all, one didn’t want to actively discourage men from doing any sort of housework if they were willing to try. “It’s very nice,” she said, putting honey on the top. “Shouldn’t we be rationing things out, though, given the weather?”

Edward laughed, unbending again after her unwise comment. He opened one of the cupboards so Julia could see that it was full of tinned goods. “And that’s not even all of it,” he said. “Plenty of oats and dried biscuits, and, fingers crossed we can get some more eggs and butter and milk from the farm if we need it. Aunt Anne always stocks up the place as if she’s going to have to feed an army.”

“Is there a radio?” she asked, following him into the living room. “Have you heard the forecast?”

“There is,” he said, as he put his bowl of porridge down on the table, “and I have. It’s not good, I’m afraid. It seems set to be the worst winter in years, according to the BBC.”

“Oh.”

Edward sat down opposite her. “Look, we both came here for some peace and quiet, right?”

Julia nodded, not about to explain that she’d changed her mind already and all she’d wanted to do even before running into Edward was turn back around and get back to the lights and noise of London.

“Well, there’s no reason we can’t do that,” he said. “There’s a small study. I’ll go work in there most of the day, and you can have the living room. There are jigsaws and things and there are plenty of books in the study. Hopefully, the worst of the snow will clear before the end of the day, and then you can be on your way.”

Julia swallowed her porridge and tried not to stare at him. It was _marvellous_ , wasn’t it? She came here on a misguided mission to hide away from the whole stupid affair with Michael and while she hardly wanted anything from Edward, it would have helped restore her pride a little if he’d at least thought she might be worth spending time with. But, no, he was proposing they ignore each other _and_ he kept looking at her as if she was some strange specimen of something, possibly a dangerous one.

“Splendid,” she said, biting down on the irrational wish to snap at him. She’d rather like to provoke him, and see what happened. He just stood around being polite and patronising and making porridge, but no one could really be all that stuffy, could they? “What an exciting plan for the day!”

He gave her a reproachful look. “In the circumstances, what else can we do?”

“Yes, sorry,” said Julia, feeling vaguely guilty. After all, it wasn’t Edward’s fault if he’d come here for peace and quiet and got her instead. “I’m sure that will be fine.”

 

She didn’t think, in a cottage this cramped, he would seriously carry out his plan, but he did. After breakfast, she washed up while he disappeared upstairs, and then, when he came back down, he went into the study, shut the door and stayed inside.

Julia, meanwhile, explored the parts of the cottage that didn’t contain Edward. The living room, in daylight, was over-cluttered, having various bits of ill-matching furniture dumped there over the years. There was a mahogany Welsh dresser on the side with scratches on the door, and the armchairs didn’t match each other or the narrow two-seater sofa. The table in the corner, had three chairs set at it, and one of them had wobbly legs.

The dresser, on further examination, held the promised jigsaws in addition to crockery and some cloths. Julia pulled one out for later, and then poked her way around the kitchen, the porch, her room – there were all sorts of oddments left in various cupboards that presumably someone had once thought might be useful, and two more tins of shortbread lurking in unexpected places. There was a haversack in her closet, and somebody’s very large old coat, plus a whole row of old Wellington boots in the porch along with more scarves and coats. She began to wonder if Edward’s family had any belongings elsewhere or if they had left everything here over the years.

Once she’d satisfied her curiosity, it was still snowing, so Julia set to work on a jigsaw depicting a cottage not unlike this one, only that depicted a summer scene, with hollyhocks in the garden, roses in bloom round the door, and rustic folk in smocks and Victorian dresses hanging about – positively a rave up in comparison to her situation. She turned to give the dividing wall between living room and study a glare and hoped Edward could feel it somehow. 

When the snow stopped, she tried to go outside and build a snowman, but it started again as soon as she did, and all she kept winding up with was a mouthful of snow every time she turned around, so she hastened back inside and laid out her gloves and scarf to dry by the fire while she attempted to finish the puzzle.

She knocked on the study door and found Edward inside, staring at a notebook. If he was writing a novel or an article or something, he didn’t seem to be getting very far.

“You said I could chose a book,” she said, at which he immediately gestured at the crowded shelves lining one side of the tiny room, and then slid out, leaving her to it.

Julia stared after him. “Oh,” she said. “Honestly!” Couldn’t he even bear to be in the same room as her for a moment or two? They could have discussed books; that would have been something. She heaved a sigh, and examined the shelves. There were a few strange and academic titles in the mix, but, to her relief, the preferred Long family reading matter appeared to be detective novels. She reached for an Agatha Christie she wasn’t sure she’d read, then called out for Edward to let him know the study was free of unwanted females, before returning to the living room and throwing herself down in the armchair with the book and a box of chocolates she’d been given for Christmas. (And if Edward came in, she decided, as she opened the book, she wouldn’t offer him one, and serve him right.)

At lunch time, they had boiled eggs and toast, and then, when the snow slowed again a little, Edward went out to see to the car and try to dig out the path to the gate. Although what good was that, Julia wondered, if nobody was digging out the private lane back down to the road? Was anyone even digging out the road?

It took him some time, and when he came back, Julia was frowning at oil lamps and wondering how to light them. “Hey,” she said, poking her head out of the living room door before he could vanish again. “Have you got any matches? I need some light in here.”

Edward stared back at her, and she felt fully reminded of her status as an unwanted nuisance, and then he fished about in his pockets, produced a book of matches and set about lighting the nearest lamp for her. “There’s a box of matches in the drawer over there,” he said, with a nod. “Or there should be, anyway.”

“Thank you,” said Julia. “While you’re here, I brought a vegetable casserole with me to save cooking dinner. If I can heat it up on that antiquated thing, would you like to share? There should be enough.”

Edward smiled. “Thank you,” he said more warmly, but then he disappeared into the study and shut the door again.

It was, Julia reflected, much better than being snowed in a cottage with a man who wouldn’t leave a person alone, but nevertheless, it was getting ridiculous. She got out the pile of games and jigsaws, and sorted through them. Over dinner, she’d ask him to join her in a game, and hopefully that would liven up the evening a little.

She sorted through them: Snakes and Ladders, Chess, Ludo, a pack of cards, an odd sort of travel game that seemed to be about cricket, and Monopoly. And with this many hours to while away, there was only one choice, really.

 

“Monopoly?” said Edward at dinner, when she made her proposition. “Why not? If you want to.”

Julia nodded, and assured him that she did, if he didn’t mind. His politeness seemed to be catching.

Dinner done with, she sat down on the rug, opened the Monopoly box and pulled out the property cards. “I’ll deal these,” she said. “You can be bank.”

Edward stared at her again, and then coughed. “Julia, you don’t deal out the property cards in Monopoly.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No,” said Edward. “You don’t. You buy them as you go around.”

“I’ve always played it this way.”

Edward leant forward. “Don’t tell me – Christy taught you to play?”

“Now you’re insulting my brother again,” she said. “And your rules are so much better, are they?”

“They’re not my rules – they’re the ones that come with the game!”

“And we have to stick to those?” Julia knew she was being unreasonable, but she’d wanted to blow up at someone ever since Michael, and all the more now Edward was so determined to avoid her like the plague. “Yes, I was absolutely right. You _are_ that sort!”

Edward looked back at her for a long moment, and she thought she might actually have provoked him into losing his temper, but all he said was, in a deceptively mild tone, “If it’s too complicated for you, we can always try Snakes and Ladders.”

Julia flung the Monopoly board at him, and then jumped up. “Why don’t you just play Patience by yourself?” she snapped and then left the room, pulling the door closed behind her and leaning against the wall.

 _Oh dear,_ she thought, putting her hands to her face. And then, despite embarrassment at her idiocy, she couldn’t help thinking of the wide-eyed look of blank shock he’d given her after she’d thrown the board and had to fight not to giggle.

“Julia,” said Edward, tentatively poking his head out of the door. “Are you all right?”

She turned and gave a nod. “Yes. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, and very childish.” And, she thought, sobering up, it wasn’t really Edward’s fault. It was Michael she wanted to throw things at. It merely happened to be Edward who was here, and even if Michael had been, he’d only have laughed that he’d bothered her so much. Whereas Edward had reacted with quite satisfactory shock. “I think sometimes,” said Julia, “that I’m a rather horrid person.”

Edward gave a relieved smile and stood back to allow her to pass through the doorway. “You can show me how to play the damned game your way, if you want.”

“I think,” said Julia, “if it’s not the _proper_ rules,” and she couldn’t resist the slightly mocking emphasis, “it’s about time I learnt what they are, before I confuse somebody else one day.”

“If you’re sure,” said Edward, giving her another of his wary looks, before retaking his seat.

Julia sat back down on the rug, picking up a few stray tiny green, wooden houses she’d scattered in her rage. “Oh, I won’t throw anything else at you, I promise. I was just –” she hesitated and gave a shrug – “annoyed about something else, really. Someone else. I am sorry.”

 

After a few turns round the board, Julia, putting the Park Lane card down on the floor beside her, eyed Edward speculatively, and said, “There is one thing Christy and I used to do that might not be a bad idea.”

“Oh?” said Edward, as he landed on Old Kent Road. “What would that be?”

Julia put out a hand to prevent him taking his £200 from the bank. “Forfeits. You have to do a forfeit or you don’t get your money. I mean, it’s only right that you should earn it, isn’t it?”

“What did you have in mind?” He was watching her again, but she spied an amused look in his eye and took heart.

She smiled. “Oh, to start with, you can make me a cup of tea. Besides, it goes both ways, so there’s no need to worry I’ll come up with something outrageous, at least not without you getting the chance for revenge afterwards.”

 

After a few more times around the board, Julia, when Edward came to pass Go, said, “A personal question, but if we’re stuck here like this, I think I ought to know. What _did_ happen with your marriage?” 

She was pretty sure her mother had said something about his wife leaving him within a month, or not much longer, and now that she’d met him, that seemed rather extreme. His efforts to ignore her might be highly insulting, but he hardly seemed the sort to drive a wife away so swiftly. 

“Yes, much too personal,” said Edward. “However, I take your point, and it’s not a secret. Caroline was in love with someone else when she married me. I didn’t know, of course. I was merely, unfortunately for us both, the more suitable match. Then she ran into the other fellow a couple of months after the wedding, realised her terrible mistake, and there we were. Eventually, we divorced and she married the right man instead. Now, your turn.”

Julia nodded. She remembered her mother telling her something like that – it was half of the reason she called him poor Ned when she referred to him – but she hadn’t known at the time that it would ever be important to her. She handed over the £200. “So you didn’t scare her away?”

“No,” said Edward. “At least, she tells me not. I’m not claiming to be faultless or anything. It’s just what happened. It would have been a farce if Caroline hadn’t taken it all so hard.”

Julia gave him an additional £100.

“That’s cheating,” said Edward.

“I’ve got Mayfair as well now,” Julia said. “You’re doomed. You may as well take it. For being chivalrous.”

He laughed and accepted the illicit paper note, but said, “I’m not. She’s very nice – and I detest her anyway. I may be rather horrid, too, I fear.”

Julia laughed, and shook the dice. 

“So tell me,” said Edward, when her turn came around, “since we’re asking personal questions, what brings you here alone at this time of year? A break up, perhaps?”

Julia moved the boot along, and swallowed back the anger that threatened to resurface. “Oh, so if you’re here alone at this time of year, that’s fine, and you’re writing or working, but if it’s me, I must have come here to sit and pine over some stupid man?”

“Not precisely,” said Edward after a short pause. “But you said earlier it wasn’t me you were angry at, and I assumed –” He gave a delicate shrug.

Julia bit her lip. “Oh. Yes. Well, maybe it is that a bit, but it’s still not fair of you to think –”

“I’m not thinking anything,” said Edward, keeping his voice soft and level. “I’m asking, because you seem liable to use me to get revenge this person, or possibly men in general, so I might need to know in case you were thinking of throwing anything else at me.”

“His name was Michael,” she said shortly. “And I’m not upset. I knew what he was like, really, I did, but it wasn’t much fun to realise how right I was. And when he telephoned me to say we should finish it, he called me Joanna again. The pig.”

“Hmm,” said Edward, “wise, I suppose.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Telephoning. If he’d done it in person you might have beaten him to death in the hall with a Cluedo board, although I do see that he would have deserved it.”

Julia stuck out her tongue. “I don’t usually commit violence with board games, thank you. And if you must know, I came here because I wanted to avoid my friend’s New Year’s Party. Michael would have been there – it would have been awkward.” 

Awkward and humiliating. _It was only a bit of fun, Joanna. I never pretended otherwise,_ he’d said. Which had been the point, originally. After her father’s death (and with him had gone the always rather erratic family fortunes), and then the unexpected, unbearable loss of her younger brother Rudy, why _not_ have a bit of fun? Except it hadn’t been, not for her, and she’d wanted something more. She’d wanted Michael to lose his head over her, while she stayed aloof, and all he’d done was play around as he always did and forget her name. She was probably the one who’d deserved everything she’d got.

She glanced down at her cards and money and then, from under her lashes, up again at Edward. She wondered what he’d tried to do if she made a move – if she could make _him_ be madly in love with her. 

“You see,” she said, giving a small smile, “I really _am_ a horrid person – I’m going to put houses on Park Lane and Mayfair next time.”

She wasn’t that rotten, though. She wouldn’t tease Edward, who’d been badly burned before, but she did think, at least for a minute or two, that it was rather a shame, because otherwise it might have been good fun to try.

 

“Tomorrow,” Julia said, when they finally abandoned the game, and she got up to go to bed. “What shall we do?”

Edward glanced upwards from where he was tidying away small piles of Monopoly money. “I thought our arrangement worked rather well today, didn’t it? Assuming the weather doesn’t change. If it does, I’ll get you down to the station.”

“Yes, of course,” said Julia, the earlier warmth of the evening evaporating. She shivered. “Silly me.”

 

Lying in bed, she thought of Michael on the telephone and how her friend Margaret had laughed when she’d tried to tell her, and beyond that she thought, as always of Rudy and Father, and the spaces they had left behind them; the different ways in which she and Mother and Christy were all in such a mess.

For the first time since the break-up, the tears came and she buried her face in the pillow to stifle her sobs. It wouldn’t do to let Edward Iveson hear and think it was somehow about him.

 

The next morning played out almost identically to the previous one. Julia woke up in the gloom with little idea of the time, except that someone was moving about downstairs and a glance at the clock told her that it was 8.45 am again.

“Porridge?” said Edward, when Julia made it down to the kitchen, and she felt she had somehow become trapped in a very tiresome repeating pattern.

“Toast,” she said, just to break the spell, even though she would have preferred porridge.

Edward looked down at the saucepan. “I did enough for two.”

“Toast,” said Julia. “I expect that bread needs eating up anyway.” She stalked away with two uneven slices to toast them at the open fire in the living room. By the time she’d finished, Edward had disappeared upstairs again.

“Oh, dear _God_ ,” Julia said under her breath. He really was going to repeat the tedium of yesterday, wasn’t he? She moved to the window and stared out. The world was white, but the snow had stopped for the moment. She waited until Edward had come back downstairs and gone into the study, then went upstairs, retrieved the haversack from the closet and transferred the essentials over from her case, and crept back down the stairs.

She refused to sit here being ignored for another day. It wasn’t that far to the station and it had been a straight route along the lane, she was sure. She had a coat, scarf, and gloves and sensible shoes and they were only in Kent, after all, not the middle of the mountains. She scribbled a note for Edward, and left it on the work top, so that he wouldn’t worry she had vanished, and then put on her coat.

On the way out, she contemplated borrowing a pair of boots, but that seemed to be going a bit far. She shrugged and quietly pulled the door shut behind her as she headed off in search of freedom, or at least, the railway station. 

 

She made her way down the narrow private lane with difficulty. The scene around her was utterly alien compared to London as she’d left it the day before last. It seemed endlessly white, the lane sloping gently down to the road below, only dark lines of hedges and trees breaking up the snow. When she looked more closely, she could see a couple of tiny houses in the distance, smoke rising out of the chimneys.

“It’s not far,” she told herself, and set off at a more steady pace, although she was already beginning to wish she’d taken those boots.

It wasn’t too bad, going down the private lane, though the snow was surprisingly deep, but once she got to the road, she managed to put her foot straight into what must be the ditch, and sank down into the snow, overbalancing herself. She gasped out, getting a mouthful of snow, and then struggled to pull herself out. It was surprisingly awkward, but she finally got back upright and brushed the snow from her coat before setting off again. The accident had dampened her clothes, however, especially her jeans and gloves, but also the scarf she’d tied around her head. Her feet were already like ice.

“Damn,” she muttered, watching her breath in front of her face, and quickening her pace again as best as she could. It wasn’t that far, so as long as she kept moving she’d be fine. She’d feel like an idiot to have to turn back and face Edward like this. He’d stare at her and then tell her that she shouldn’t even have tried, she should sat down and done another jigsaw.

Julia set her face and marched on, taking more care this time, but the dampness made a difference: suddenly the bitter wind seemed to cut right through her in addition to stealing her breath. She glared ahead and stuffed her gloved hands in her pockets, and then slipped again.

 _Idiot_ , she accused herself, and walked on, settling into a rhythm. She squinted ahead, looking for any sign of the station, the worrying thought occurring to her that the route might not have been as direct as she’d assumed. It had been dark when the local taxi driver had brought her along, and she hadn’t been paying attention. But it _had_ been one long, straight drive, hadn’t it? A few slight bends in the road, but nothing more.

As she ploughed onwards, the snow started falling again, only gently as yet, but the sky was far more ominously dark than when she’d set out. There had almost been cracks of light in the clouds, then. It was unfair of it to shift so quickly.

She walked on for a few minutes more, but her feet were growing increasingly numb and she was beginning to doubt herself. What if she wasn’t even heading in the right direction? The car had turned in left from the road to the lane, hadn’t it? Or had it? Suddenly she couldn’t feel sure, and she shivered again.

Julia lifted her head, looking for any sign of anyone else out and about that she could ask for directions, but she couldn’t see any more signs of life than she had earlier. Given how freezing it was, she couldn’t blame everyone else for staying indoors. She would have done, too, if Edward hadn’t been impossible, with his porridge and his determination to ignore her.

 _Oh don’t blame Edward_ , she told herself. _It’s got nothing to do with him. You’re angry with Michael, and you’re angry with yourself, and it really is about time you got over it._

Once she got on the train, she’d stop moping. She’d go to Christy’s New Year Party, instead of running away. Maybe she’d find a better friend than Margaret and someone who’d make a better date than Michael. It ought to be possible. Her mind strayed back to Edward, and she thought guiltily, that she would send him an apology. It wasn’t fair to throw things at people, and then run away without warning, even if they had been foisted onto each other by mistake.

The snow was falling faster now, and Julia stopped. Had she turned around while distracted? She felt even less sure of the route, and she was shivering in clothes that seemed to be affording her little protection any more. She swallowed, reminding herself that there were no footprints in front of her, and there were stretching out behind. She was still travelling towards the centre of the hamlet – towards the station.

If it _was_ the right direction. Julia stared ahead, unable to see any signs of a cluster of houses or smoke rising from chimneys, or anything else that might indicate she was nearing the centre of the village, and then back at her trail of footprints.

She was cold, and she should have taken those boots. She’d better hurry back the way she’d come and then either stay where she was and apologise to Edward, or try again more sensibly dressed. She hesitated for a moment, unwilling to make a fool of herself, but, she decided as she turned around, better that than winding up an icicle.

She followed her footprints along, going as quickly as she could. It helped for a while, although she couldn’t stop shivering as she went. Then she found herself confused: _was_ she following the footsteps back to the cottage? Or had she turned around again and was now only walking in circles? Nothing seemed quite right.

The wind was blowing in her face now, making her eyes water. She walked on, and stumbled, unexpectedly tired and almost grateful to sit for a moment. She tried to catch her breath. It all felt like so much effort, she could quite happily have lain down in the snow.

Julia shook herself and got to her feet. None of that now, she told herself. There was no one around and it wasn’t as if Edward Iveson would notice she had gone, let alone come after her, so she had make her way back into the warm herself. No one, it seemed, was ever going to take the trouble to come after her at any time, not any more.

She took a few more steps forward, and fell, almost in tears. It didn’t feel like only Kent any more; she was alone in an icily hostile world, and it was all too much. She put her numbed, gloved hand up to her head, and sighed. She’d have to lie here, just for a moment…

 

It took a while for the emptiness of the cottage to permeate through to the study, but after about ten minutes, Edward laid down his novel and strained to hear something, anything. Yesterday, no matter what she’d been doing, he’d been unable to help being aware of Julia. She had a presence that somehow filled the cottage – moving briskly about, or muttering to herself, and even occasionally singing under her breath while she was working on her jigsaw. He had a vague idea, too, that he had heard the outer door slam some time ago, which suggested she had gone out and not yet come back.

Edward abandoned his book, and went into the living room. It was empty. He stood in the hallway and called out for her, receiving no answer. A quick glance told him she wasn’t in the kitchen, and running up the stairs revealed the door to the spare room open, the room vacant – and Julia’s case open on the bed with only a handful of items left in it.

“Oh, no,” he said, and hastened back downstairs, heading through the kitchen for the lobby. Before he got there to see if her red coat was still hanging up, he found the note on the worktop.

Edward read it, then re-read it, and was within an ace of going back to his book, but sighed. He couldn’t. The chances were, in a tiny place like this, there simply wouldn’t be any trains. He didn’t like the idea of her sitting in the icy station for hours – and even if she decided to try her luck at the pub rather than face another day here with him, she was unfamiliar with the place. In the snow, would the way the actual street curved off from the road beyond the station be obvious? And if she was really unlucky, she could even step straight into a snowdrift. He knew exactly what every single member of his family would do if they were here, and what they would expect of him. He really could do nothing else. He had to go after her.

He grabbed his coat, scarf, hat, and boots and set out, trying to stifle anger. He couldn’t expect her to like staying here with someone who was, despite their family connections, a complete stranger, but all the same, he couldn’t help feeling affronted by this desperate need of hers to get away from him. He’d done his best not to alarm her, to make sure she had what she needed, and he’d damn well sat in that poky study for the best part of the day yesterday, bored half out of his mind, all so that she had the space to do whatever she wanted without his interference, and still she walked off into the snow rather than put up with him for a minute longer.

It was beginning to snow again by the time he got to the bottom of the lane and the beauty and stillness of the scene took the edge off his ire, much as the cold stole his breath. He almost laughed at himself. Poor Julia – she’d left him safely behind, and now he was going to turn up at the station like the proverbial bad penny.

Starting along the road towards the village, he stopped, spying something red amid the snow ahead of him and, even as he was puzzling over what it might be, realisation caught up with him. All his amusement and annoyance died away into sick shock that froze him to the spot. “Oh, God,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strangled and small in the silence. “Oh, God. Julia.”

Julia. It was Julia, lying there, snow already settling on the red coat, and her face pale, almost blue-tinged. He shook himself and pushed forward through the snow, going as fast as he could, but it still seemed to take an age to make it to where she had fallen. 

“Julia,” he said, crouching down and fighting the urge to panic, as he put his arms around her, trying to pull her in against him. “Oh, God. Are you all right? Julia!”

She moved suddenly, making him start, as she struggled onto her hands and knees, then letting him help her up. She stared up at him, dazed. “You’re h-here,” she said, and then fell forward again. “You came back.”

“Yes,” he said, catching hold of her. He was hardly steady himself for a moment, weak with relief. He’d thought she was _dead_ and somewhere in the back of his mind the nightmare scenario that would have involved was still unfolding. “Come on, we must get you back to the cottage. It’s not far.” He frowned, and said, “Wait.” 

She wasn’t wearing boots, or a hat – she had a hood that had fallen down, and a scarf wound around her head. That, her gloves, and her jeans were damp and icy.

“ _Julia_ ,” he said, and pulled off his scarf, replacing hers with his. He also took her small haversack, putting it on over his shoulders instead. He couldn’t do anything about the rest, so he murmured, “Sorry,” and put his arm around her, effectively pushing her onwards. She was too far gone, though, and he felt, at intervals, her weight growing heavy against him, and he had to stop and catch her. 

He swallowed, because it while it wasn’t far, he wasn’t sure whether or not he could carry her up the lane without landing them both in worse trouble, but clearly he was going to have to try.

“Julia,” he said, turning and bending down slightly. “Arms around my neck. Come on.”

She obliged, passive in her state of dazed exhaustion, and Edward gritted his teeth as he lifted her, concentrating on following his footprints through the snow, one step after another, leaving far deeper, uneven imprints behind him.

It couldn’t have taken that long – he couldn’t have managed it otherwise – but it felt like an age, breathing hard with the effort as Julia became a dead weight in his arms. He had to stop, briefly, twice, checking her pulse while he caught his breath. She was still alive, and on the second stop, she raised her head, seemingly confused for a moment, before recognition dawned in her eyes, and she leant in against him.

“Come on,” he said, under his breath, as he prepared to make the last stretch. “It’s all right, Julia. Nearly there – stay with me.” He had to bite his lip before what he intended as a comforting nothings turned into pleading, and fight back the sense of panic that welled up in him. He managed to stand again, with her in his arms, and gritted his teeth, ploughing on until he finally reached the cottage gate.

Once he’d got her inside, he set about tugging off her half-frozen gloves, dragging her into the kitchen, and undoing her red coat, pulling the loops over the oblong-shaped buttons. That done, he put his coat around her, while he disposed of his wet Wellingtons, and then moved her on into the living room.

Edward set her down on the sofa, and put the throw over her, before crouching down to pull off her shoes, then her socks. He hesitated at going further. “Julia,” he said, hoping she would understand, but she was shivering uncontrollably, not in a condition to undress herself. 

He had better be pragmatic; after all one couldn’t let someone die out of mere embarrassment. He assessed the state of the rest of her outfit. The jumper was mainly dry, but the ends of her sleeves weren’t, so he said, “Arms up,” and tugged it off, before pulling the coat around her more closely. He stopped again, but he couldn’t leave her in wet and semi-frozen jeans. He arranged the throw over her first, and then tugged them off.

“I’ll go upstairs,” he said, as he tucked the throw in around her more tightly. “Fetch some more blankets and things and dry clothes. I won’t be a moment.”

He thought first to put the kettle on the stove and then went upstairs, coming back down with an armful of bedclothes. Once he’d got Julia well wrapped up, he pulled back and surveyed her, trying to assess her condition. The thing to do was to call the doctor, but he’d have to go up to the farm to do that, and he couldn’t leave her yet.

He didn’t even know if he was doing the right things. Obviously he had to warm her up, but beyond a vague memory of someone telling him once that hypothermia was a chancy sort of thing (“warm people up and then they just pop off anyhow, just like that!”) he wasn’t at all sure. 

“Julia,” he said, crouching by the sofa, and taking her hands, rubbing them. They were cold, much more so than he liked. “You’ll be all right now. I’m making some tea – bound to do the trick.”

She managed to look at him and give a small nod, and he thought maybe she wasn’t shivering quite as much. He shifted over to the fire, stoking it.

“Th-thank you,” she said, from behind him.

He smiled with an effort. “No, no,” he said. “You just sit there and get warm. I’ll see if that kettle’s doing anything yet.”

The kettle hadn’t boiled yet. Edward gave a slight grimace, and started to set out the cups, but stopped, finding his hand was shaking too much to handle the crockery. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself by breathing in and out. He could still see, so vividly, Julia’s red coat against the snow, and he wasn’t at all sure the danger was over yet. He gave an unsteady laugh, and set about getting the tea things ready again, hunting out the sugar bowl out and teaspoons.

 

“Tea,” he announced, carrying the pot and cups in a tray, along with a few pieces shortbread on a plate. He set it down on the low table in front of her. “Can you manage, or do you need me to help you?”

Julia blinked. “I d-don’t know.”

“Well, let’s see,” said Edward. He put the cup in her hand, keeping his hands over hers. She was still shivering, so he raised the cup to her lips for her, letting her take a sip.

Julia’s grip steadied. “I th-think it’s all r-right,” she told him. Then she pulled a face. “It’s too s-sweet.”

“I thought it probably ought to be,” he said. He let go, but remained sitting on the floor nearby, but she did seem to be recovering. Some of the tension ebbed out of him, and he relaxed enough to retrieve and drink his cup of tea.

They both concentrated on the tea, and when they’d finished and he took her cup from her, they both looked at each other, suddenly at a loss.

“Are you feeling better?” he said. “I think you’ve got a bit more colour.”

She gave a nod. “You came after me.”

“I didn’t think the trains would be running,” Edward said, unsure she meant it as thanks or an accusation. “I thought I’d better.” She was still staring at him, and he shifted uneasily on the carpet. “I’ll, er, take the tea things out.”

When he came back in, she was standing, the eiderdown slipping from her shoulders as she moved. It was that carelessness that triggered something in him; that and the relief.

“Julia!” he snapped, marching over and pulling the eiderdown close around her. “Sit back down! Don’t you dare move until we’re sure you’re all right!”

She gaped and half-fell back into the sofa.

“What possessed you, anyway?” he continued, unaccustomed rage rising in him, all the more as she stared, and he knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn’t seem to stop. “My God! Of course you don’t want to be stuck here like this – neither of us do! But to go out like that, without taking any proper precaution – you could have _died_! Next time, you damn well think before you do anything so idiotic!”

Julia didn’t say anything. She merely blinked away tears and he saw her lips quiver.

Edward found himself staring back at her, feeling unlike himself, and equally bereft of words as his anger evaporated as abruptly as it had come. He eventually managed, kneeling down by the couch, “I’m sorry. You terrified me out there.”

Julia put a hand to his face, her fingers still cold, though no longer icy, and nodded. Then she leant forward and caught hold of him, hugging him. Edward froze for a moment, and then put his arms around her in return. 

“Me, too,” she said, indistinctly into his jumper. “Half to death.”

And with that, he could finally breathe out fully. “Not very funny, Julia.”

“No,” she murmured “No.” 

 

Julia was beginning to feel more herself. Badly shaken, headachy, and still buried under a heap of blankets, but far warmer, and more alert. Edward had gone to the farm to telephone the doctor. He’d been reluctant to leave her, but she’d assured him she would be fine. She’d put on some dry clothes before wrapping some of the blankets back around her, but still felt pathetic enough to keep looking at the clock and wishing he’d come back.

It had been forty-two minutes altogether when he finally walked in through the living room door.

“Oh, are you back already?” said Julia, as casually as she could.

Edward walked, pulling off his scarf as he went, his gaze fixed on her. “How are you?”

“I’m all right now,” she said. “I think. What did the doctor say?”

He shrugged. “Oh, that it sounded as if I’d done all the right things. I wanted to him to come out, but he had an emergency elsewhere. He told me to ring again if you didn’t improve. Which –” Edward gestured a hand at the window, where the snow was still falling, and gave a snort of disgust. “How would he ever get here in time? I rather lost my temper with him. But I suppose he’s right. You _are_ keeping warm enough, aren’t you?”

Julia nodded, wishing she could have seen Edward losing his temper on her behalf. He was not merely composed of politeness and porridge, just as she’d thought. She didn’t want to think about her narrow escape this morning, but she was, despite everything else, enjoying having someone fuss over her. She hadn’t even minded much when he’d shouted earlier. A person had to care at least a little to shout at someone for nearly getting themselves killed.

Edward sank into the armchair, putting his head in his hands.

“Are _you_ all right?” asked Julia. Even aside from the fact that it must have been a shock for him, too, he’d had to carry her up the lane, not something he was built for.

He looked up slowly in surprise. “Yes. Yes, I’m just – I wish I could have got the doctor out for you. But I did get some milk and butter and eggs.”

Julia lost whatever she had been going to say, and laughed. “I expect that’s nearly as good, really.”

“Well, we won’t starve,” said Edward, his sense of humour also resurfacing, if more slowly. He gave a smile. “You _are_ all right, aren’t you?”

Julia nodded. “I’ll tell you if I’m not.” She stood up, keeping the eiderdown around her. “Stand up,” she ordered, and when he did, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, I am all right, or I will be now. Thank you.”

Edward gave a short laugh, taken by surprise, and squeezed her hand before she stepped away from him.

“And now,” she said, settling herself down on the sofa again, “you should get us some lunch. I’m a very demanding patient.”

Edward grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

“Soup and toast, maybe?” she said. “Is there any bread left?”

“I also got some rolls at the farm,” he said. “And I’m not sure, but possibly some ham as well.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “Did they know you were coming?”

“Actually,” said Edward, “I suppose I must have been in rather a state about leaving you, and the doctor refusing to come. I think Mrs Ford must have felt sorry for me – she plied me with all sorts even though I only asked if they had some eggs I could buy, or perhaps some milk.”

Julia bit her lip, stifling laughter, finding that all too easy to imagine. “Well,” she said, “I feel a little bit shaky again now, so soup and rolls would be very nice, and then we can have jacket potatoes and ham and tinned peas later, nothing we need to worry too much about cooking.”

 

After lunch, there wasn’t much else to do while the snow fell on but resume their game of Monopoly. 

“So,” Julia said, the first time Edward passed Go, “what made you come after me?”

He shot her a reproachful look. “We’re not still doing forfeits, are we? Besides, I’ve already told you.”

“It’s the main point now,” she said. “After all, the moment you land on Mayfair, the game is over. I have three houses and it won’t be long till I have a chain of hotels.”

Edward shook his head. “You might bankrupt yourself before I oblige. Street repairs and all that. I might win the beauty competition again.”

“Yes, but why did you?” said Julia. “I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me. You obviously couldn’t stand me, so –”

Edward’s mouth fell open, which was even more of a reaction than she’d been angling for. Then he gave himself a small shake and said, “Of course not. I was merely trying to give you some space. Neither of us asked to be trapped here together and you were naturally uncomfortable with the situation. What else was I to do?”

“Oh,” said Julia. “I was put out to start with, obviously, but once I knew who you were it wasn’t so bad. Not so much that you needed to lock yourself in the cupboard.”

“Study,” said Edward, taking his £200.

“It’s not much bigger than a cupboard.”

Edward merely said, “I thought I had better make sure you got to the station all right, that was all. Find out if there were any trains.”

“And, of course,” said Julia, “if anything had happened, it’d have been terribly awkward to try and explain to the authorities. They wouldn’t have been able to pin anything on you, what with it being natural causes, but they’d have had you on their books.”

“That thought did occur to me. You can imagine, can’t you? ‘So, how _did_ you come to be staying in the cottage with this young lady you claim not to know? Why did she run out into the snow? You must have done something to alarm her, don’t you think? Are you married, sir? Oh, divorced…’”

Julia threw the dice. “Well, my part in that scenario is even worse.”

“Yes,” he said. 

“And thank you.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

 

When it was her turn to pass Go, she hesitated, waiting for Edward’s question and then, when he failed to speak, she stretched her hand out towards the box, hovering over the £100 notes and raised her eyebrow.

“Why did you go off like that?” he asked, raising his gaze to meet hers. “Did you really think I hated you? Or was it – was it on purpose?”

Julia wrinkled her forehead. “On purpose? Getting almost frozen to death? No! I didn’t want to stay here if you didn’t want me around – better to go back. After all, I could go to Christy’s party instead of – instead of the other one. Besides, I thought you were just making a fuss about the weather. It’s only Kent. I didn’t think it even counted as proper countryside.”

Edward watched her for a moment, and then laughed. He was sitting on the rug, so as better to reach the low table that held the board, and now he relaxed against the chair behind him. “Now you know better. And Christy’s party? Rather you than me. I went to one once. Must have been a birthday thing, I should think.” He smiled. “I’m not sure my hearing’s ever been the same since, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.”

Julia grinned. “Yes,” she said. “Just as I thought – you are that sort.”

 

Julia hadn’t been joking when she said the forfeits were now the main point, although the game provided a frame on which to hang them, an excuse to pry in a way neither of them would have done normally. Well, she amended privately, Edward would never have done normally. She might have tried anyway.

“You won’t make it round the board without that £200, will you?” she said. “I’d better go for something worthwhile.”

“I suppose that’s the right sort of ruthless attitude for Monopoly. What?”

Julia slid down from her sitting position on the sofa into a more horizontal one, resting her head on the cushions that were propped against the arm. “How long is it since you married Caroline – since that divorce? It’s quite a few years. So why _are_ you here, alone like this?”

“Is this a request to know my deep dark secret that keeps everyone away, or whether or not I’m here because of a break up, too?”

“Whichever is true,” said Julia. She pulled the blanket closer around her, and hoped she still looked vaguely pitiful. “Or whether you perhaps don’t like women, or tragically lost someone.”

Edward gave a faint smile, leaning his head back against the chair. “Shall I answer or would you like to continue doing it for me?”

“You,” said Julia. “Or no cash handouts.”

“I do need that £200,” he admitted. Then he said, “Look, it was difficult with Caroline. And things just didn’t work out after – perhaps I didn’t really try.”

Julia nodded. “So your wife was cheating on you, and you had to let everyone know, and then – whole years and years of being a blank?”

“She wasn’t,” said Edward, sitting up. “She was in love with Jack, not me, but she went home to her mother. Caroline couldn’t bear the idea of committing adultery. It was the work of the world to persuade her into agreeing to a divorce, let alone breaking one of the Ten Commandments. Jack and I had to combine forces.” He caught her look and tried to laugh. “I told you it would have made a great farce, if it had only been funny.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Julia, feeling enlightened. “So you – you had to –” She waved a hand.

Edward rearranged his few remaining property cards – the electric works, Marylebone Station, and Vine Street. “Do the chivalrous thing. Yes,” he said, with sudden vehemence. “And that really _is_ a farce, you know. They all know it’s meaningless. You hire a professional co-respondent and you go to a hotel where some porter or some sordid enquiry agent notes down how long you stayed, and there’s your evidence. And what else could anyone possibly be doing?”

“What else?” murmured Julia, sitting herself back up again.

There was a small flash of surprise in his eyes, when he realised that she’d caught the significance of his words. “It was such a ridiculous affair,” he said, defensively. “The only way I could have a sort of revenge on the whole thing was to make it be a lie.”

“Yes. What did you do instead?”

Edward screwed up his face, and pushed the cards away. “Oh, played Patience – read. Talked. Nobody cares, that’s the thing. And until it went through I was on tenterhooks in case Caroline lost her nerve and then we’d have to start the whole damned thing all over again.”

Julia bit her lip, struggling not to laugh, even though he was right; it wasn’t a very funny farce.

“And maybe,” said Edward, with unexpected honesty, “I am a bit of a prig. Your brother called me that once. I’m not a saint, though. Once it was all over, I did exactly what you’d expect and ran straight out and had an affair.”

“Isn’t that a bit back-to-front when you were finally free?”

He said, “She wasn’t. So you don’t get to hear anything more about that, no matter how much Monopoly money you bribe me with. There was someone else, once, but I took a while to realise, and in the meantime she got a job in America.”

“And which of them are you still in love with?” asked Julia, pushing her luck.

Edward gave her a blank look. “Why on earth would you imagine I would be? I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

“Shock, I expect,” said Julia. “Plus, I’m blackmailing you for £200.”

Edward laughed. “I think it’s bribery, not blackmail. Now, hand the money over, and then you can get dinner if you’re up to it. It is your turn.”

 

After dinner, Edward finally landed on Park Lane and put an end to the game. And while Julia couldn’t be sorry for the victory, sitting on the sofa with a blanket round her shoulders, she did wonder, as she said to him, how she was supposed to come up with an excuse to ask personal questions now?

“You could just ask,” said Edward. “I might not answer if you’re not bribing me with money I’m entitled to by the rules, though.”

Julia stuck her tongue out. “Oh, you and your rules! Do you have rules for everything? I bet that’s the real reason your relationships didn’t work out.”

“Fishing without having a £200 reward to offer will get you nowhere,” said Edward. “Although, now that you come to mention it, I _was_ given several pamphlets worth of instructions on the subject.” 

Julia stared hard at him. He looked back at her, his expression solemn, but with the light of laughter in his eyes. “Don’t be silly.”

“You haven’t met my Aunt Daisy,” said Edward. “About a week or two before my marriage, she gave me a lot of educational feminist pamphlets, because, she said, she expected me to know the basics by now or heaven help me, but men were always so selfish when it came to these things.”

Julia couldn’t make up her mind whether or not to believe him. “What did you do?”

“I have an enquiring mind,” murmured Edward, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Sadly, as you point out, it didn’t stop Caroline locking herself in the spare room and crying a few weeks later, but then none of the pamphlets went into what you do when your wife turns out to have married the wrong man.”

“You’re just making that up.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, it’s not the worst literature I’ve found in that house. My Grandfather Long was another academic, and he had a box of Victorian erotica in the attic. They may even still be there. Nancy and I discovered them one summer. Good God, they were atrocious. I think they’d been donated to the university, but they didn’t want them, so Grandfather saved them until they did – and they never did.”

“All right,” said Julia, “I suppose I deserve to have my leg pulled after being so nosy, but honestly!”

Edward was busy sorting out the Monopoly cards and money, putting them back in their places in the box. “It’s the truth. Just ask Aunt Daisy.”

“Why were you living with your aunt, anyway?” said Julia, pushing her luck. She knew from her mother that it was something to do with Edward’s stepfather being a very unpleasant man, but she was suddenly finding that to be a highly insufficient explanation. 

Edward put the lid on the box. “Julia, you could blackmail me for real by now, and I don’t think I should give you any more ammunition. If you’ve heard anything of that story from your mother, then you know as much as I do. Besides, I see Mother sometimes these days, and that’s what I concentrate on – that’s what that matters.”

“Sorry. And I won’t breathe a word of any of it,” said Julia. “It stays between us. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He lifted his head and she caught her breath at the memory of how close she had come to losing her life that morning.

“I mean,” she said, hastily papering over the uncomfortable reminder, “I won’t tell. Promise.”

 

Edward suggested a cup of tea before they both retired for the night – he put it like that, which made Julia want to laugh – and they waited for the kettle to boil in the narrow kitchen.

Edward put out two mugs, while Julia got the milk, nearly losing the blanket she was still wearing in the process.

“ _Julia_ ,” said Edward, taking a step towards as she turned, the milk bottle left on the work surface. He waved a hand in a moment of impatient incoherence, and then pulled the blanket around her shoulders in tighter before it fell off. “Will you be more careful?”

She tried not to smile. Fussing, fussing; she was certainly getting enough of that now. She put her hand over his where he was holding the end of the blanket, and looked up. “I honestly don’t think I’ll freeze now. I’m more likely to stifle.”

He lowered his head, biting back a laugh, although he hadn’t let go, clasping the hand she’d laid over his. “Yes. Forgive me.”

“You did save my life,” she murmured, and though she tried to sound light, it didn’t come out that way. It probably wasn’t the sort of thing one _could_ say lightly.

To her surprise, but also to her instinctive, unexpected delight, he leant in closer and kissed her, if only briefly, his lips brushing hers. She caught at his cardigan, intending to return the favour, but the kettle began whistling instead and Edward let go of her to take it off the stove.

“I’m sorry,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze, as he poured the hot water into the tea pot. “I shouldn’t – I mean, I’m sorry.”

Julia smothered an inward sigh and waited while he fiddled with the tea strainer, getting her revenge for the unwanted apology by telling him again that tea bags really would be easier.

He passed her one of the mugs with a dark look. “Peasant.”

“Fusspot,” said Julia. “Blankets and tea and rule books!”

He shook his head at her, as they walked back into the living room and while she settled herself back on the sofa, he perched awkwardly on the arm of his chair, watching her, his hands on the mug.

“Julia,” he said, eventually, “I wanted to say something. It’s not any of my business, but I thought perhaps I ought to.”

Julia’s heart had leapt at that (and why, she asked herself; the kiss had been rather nice, but after all, she barely knew him and she wasn’t looking for complications. And Edward Iveson would most certainly be a complication), but the ‘ought’ brought her down to earth. Nothing good came of oughts.

“Well,” she said, “I did ask you a lot of overly personal questions, so you might as well.”

Edward shifted his position on the arm of the chair and took a sip of his tea. “I’m trying to think how to put it, because I’m not in any way saying it was deliberate but –” He frowned. “Let’s just say that in the light of what you’ve told me, I make it at least two, possibly three, times you’ve been rather reckless lately. So, be careful, Julia. Not only about keeping warm, although that, too.”

“Oh,” said Julia, blinking. “I beg your pardon?”

Edward took another sip of tea and gave a slight grimace. “Getting into a relationship with someone you said you knew all along was a bastard, going out into the snow unprepared, and very possibly coming here alone in the first place in this weather.”

“Well, that’s –” Julia held onto the mug more tightly. “None of those things are at all the same.” _And you did the last one, too,_ she thought, but refrained from saying it aloud.

Edward coloured. “No. I suppose they’re not. Only I know you’ve lost a good deal lately and that seems to me to be, well, rather self-destructive in a buried sort of way.”

“You’re trying to psycho-analyse me,” said Julia. “How modern of you. Very annoying, too. It’s bad enough in a psychiatrist, let alone in a passing civil servant.” 

He smiled then. “I suppose it is insufferable, sorry. It’s late and no doubt I’m talking nonsense. Ignore me.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, Julia acknowledged, giving all her attention to her tea. She didn’t think it was really a self-destructive streak, but maybe a wish for punishment, or attention-seeking. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t successfully achieved both.

 

Julia couldn’t sleep. She kept almost dozing off but every time she did, she woke again, her heart beating fast. Somewhere in the back of her head she was thinking of the way she’d so nearly passed out in the snow and her body or subconscious seemed to be belatedly and unhelpfully protesting.

Eventually, once it got to nearly two, she decided to go downstairs and try making some hot milk or cocoa, and she had nearly finishing doing so, despite having to battle with putting more coal in the antiquated stove, when Edward arrived on the scene, causing her to shriek and only narrowly avoid throwing cocoa powder over them both.

“For heaven’s sake,” he said, suddenly looming over her in the gloom, a sort of thunderous angel, if angels wore anything as improbable as a grey flannel dressing gown and blue striped pyjamas. “What are you doing now?” He scowled at her and then stared at her feet.

Julia felt her cheeks heat. “I could only find one slipper,” she said, “but I’ve got two pairs of socks on, so you don’t need to scold.”

“Idiot,” he said, and took over from her at the stove. “Get upstairs. I’ll bring this up when it’s done.”

Julia nodded and fled back to her room, fighting the urge to giggle.

 

A few minutes later, he reappeared in the open doorway and tapped on the wall. “Your cocoa.”

Julia had to bite back laughter again, and merely nodded, holding out her hands as he stepped in to hand it over. “Thanks.”

“I may have been a little ungracious,” he said, stiffly. “I’m sorry. You woke me.”

“Yes,” she said, with sympathy, “and then you unfortunately got out of bed on the wrong side.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, wearily. 

“And I didn’t mean to disturb you,” said Julia. “I’m sure I’ll be all right now. Good night!”

He muttered something darkly about it probably being morning by now, which was true enough, and then he stalked away into his room. Nevertheless, Julia found, once she’d finished the cocoa, it really was all right, and she slept at last.

 

Julia woke in the grey light before dawn, which felt too early when one hadn’t dropped off till almost three, but she was warm, and she had slept in the end, and she contemplated the day ahead with unexpected pleasure, wondering what she and Edward would find to do.

She let her mind drift from that question to Edward Iveson in general. She’d realised in the wakeful hours of the night what he’d asked her yesterday, when he’d said had she gone out into the snow on purpose. She hadn’t understood until then: he was asking if she was so cut up about Michael she’d wanted to lose her life. 

Julia didn’t think like that, and she wondered what it meant that Edward did, and concluded that he probably shouldn’t be left here alone, either. She listened hard and could hear a door bang downstairs: he was already up and about. Making porridge again, she supposed, and laughed into her pillow.

Anyway, they had until the end of the week here together – they’d see in the New Year, and who knew what would happen then? Probably nothing, and probably that would be for the best, but all the same, Julia smiled and turned over, burrowing herself into the pillows, as she contemplated pleasant possibilities. It was, after all, traditional to welcome the New Year in with a kiss.

 

“Julia,” said Edward, as she accepted her porridge with more grace than she had the day before. “I’ve been listening to the radio and there’s due to be a short-lived thaw over today and tomorrow. I think we’d better take advantage of it before the weather worsens again.”

Julia paused with a spoonful of porridge in her hand. “Leave tomorrow, you mean?”

“Or today, in case it changes sooner than predicted,” said Edward. “There’s been no fresh snow overnight. I’m going up to the farm again and I’ll phone the station to see what the situation is. If there is going to be a train later on, I think we ought to be on it.”

Julia blenched at the idea of attempting the journey to the station on foot a second time. It was too soon.

“I’ll see what the station master says,” Edward said, more gently. “I do realise you won’t want to go out there yet, but if there is a train, I really think we must. And we’ll be together and you’ll be better prepared this time. Plus, it must be a few degrees milder today.”

“Possibly above freezing, then?” said Julia. “Quite balmy!”

“Look, I’ll go and find out – we might need to wait till tomorrow anyway.”

He smiled at her and left the kitchen and Julia stared down at her porridge. There would be no cosy New Year’s celebrations between them. She’d be back in London with Christy, and Edward would be elsewhere in the city, doing whatever it was he usually did to celebrate. Probably out with a whole lot of Foreign Office people or something, she told herself sternly. It was no good romanticising things, and no doubt yesterday’s brief kiss had been only the sort of kiss one gave the sister of a friend when one had saved her life. She couldn’t really expect anything more, not after she’d thrown the Monopoly board at him.

 

Julia had to hang onto Edward’s arm when they made their way down the lane in the afternoon. The biting wind had died down a little, and she was as well wrapped up as she could be, wearing someone else’s boots and old coat and hat and double layers and they had a thermos flask with tea in it, but nevertheless she immediately felt a tension in her body.

“That’s it,” Edward said, pulling her in nearer. He smiled down at her. “Keep moving. It’ll be fine.”

Julia raised her chin, determined not to give up so easily. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s just that if the trains are running today, I don’t want to risk waiting for tomorrow. They kept muttering things about it being as bad as 1947. We don’t want to be trapped here for the next month.”

Julia kept in step with him, slightly out of breath already. “No,” she agreed. “I mean, after all that time, we’d have to get married.”

“Julia,” said Edward, with a reversion to his initial primness. “That isn’t amusing.”

She would have liked to point out that she wasn’t in love with someone else and if they needed to get divorced, she’d be happy to have an affair, so she couldn’t possibly be a worse wife than his first, but he was frowning ahead at the lane, so she concentrated on not falling over instead. He probably wouldn’t have found that comment very funny either.

 

Once they got to the station, which didn’t seem anything like as far away as it had yesterday, Edward ushered her into the signalman’s house, next to the signal box, where there was a fire in the grate.

“Ah,” said the signalman, greeting them. “This is the young lady, is it? Well, don’t worry. The train’s running a bit late, but it’s running, and you can stay in here in the warm until it does come. Just don’t tell anyone else that turns up.” He gave Julia a wink.

Julia looked at Edward as the station master disappeared out onto the platform.

“I explained to him what happened to you yesterday,” he said. “He said we could come in this once.”

Julia sat down on a battered wooden chair, and studied her gloved hands in her lap, touched by his thoughtfulness. She swallowed and blinked away tears. “Thank you.”

 

The small two-carriage train was busier than she had expected. Edward managed to find her a seat in a crowded compartment and then stood outside in the corridor, but once they changed at Ashford for the main line to Charing Cross, they managed sit next to each other.

Edward glanced down at her, and smiled. Julia only smiled back. There was nothing to say in front of strangers, and, besides, she was tired from her broken night. She would have liked to rest her head on shoulder, taking advantage of this last hour or so together, but not in public. She lent her head back against the seat and shut her eyes, close against him.

The next thing she knew, he had put a hand to her shoulder to give her a gentle shake. “Julia,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We’re almost here.”

She shook herself back into wakefulness, while he stood to get the bags down from the rack. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, before it was too late. “For everything, I mean, not for the suitcase.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Edward and then the train shuddered as it started to slow in earnest, the platform now visible outside the window. There was almost no time left.

“We should meet again,” she said. “Perhaps for a meal.”

Edward helped her up. “Perhaps,” he said, and he seemed almost as impossible to read again as he had done at the start, a hundred miles distant. They made their way off the train, and then, before she could try and assure him she was in earnest about seeing him again, they had to part in search of the underground; she going south to Bermondsey, and he north to Primrose Hill.

When she turned around one last time to see his tall, thin figure disappearing into the London crowds, he didn’t look back.

Once she reached her stop on the underground, she climbed back to the surface and emerged into a world that suddenly seemed even more alien than the wintry beauty of the countryside had. The street was quieter than usual and the snow still around was rapidly becoming grey slush, only odd patches of pure white remaining in awkward corners.

She set her face and returned to her chilly bed-sit. She could listen to the radio and watch the dirty gold wallpaper peel, she thought, pulling a face as she remembered all the reasons she’d wanted to get away for a week in the first place.

 

12 Chalcot Crescent was still standing when Edward returned. Checking showed no signs of any burst pipes or other disasters, but it was cold. Cold and very quiet. So much so that he wondered if next door were away for the holidays. It couldn’t usually be quite this silent, could it? He could feel the weight of the empty floors above him.

“Peace and quiet,” he said aloud, trying to convince himself of his appreciation of both.

He took the haversack upstairs and dumped it on the floor of the bedroom, before sitting on the bed, putting his head in his hands. There was no need for a show now. He was alone now, and if he wanted to think about Julia Graves, he could. It merely took a moment to allow himself to be honest, even with himself; he’d been trying to stifle his feelings for the past few days. The break-up, her losses, the incident in the snow – any one of those things were enough to make him a cad for making advances. 

It had been less than four days in full, and therefore it was impossible that this was anything more than a stupid if understandable infatuation. One did not fall in love in such a short time. Love took time and effort, and even then it didn’t always work. He knew that.

It was logical enough – he had gone to the cottage for the weekend in order to try and work things through in a different environment, because he had been feeling lonely and uncertain of his future. And when he got to the cottage, Julia walked had in. How else could it have gone?

Part of him objected; part of him suggested that it might in fact be more reasonable to be annoyed when someone interrupted the peace of a retreat and threw board games at him. He lifted his head, his mouth twitching with repressed amusement.

“Damn it,” he said, standing. He went downstairs and put the radio on, letting the noise fill the house, but he still found himself wandering restlessly about the place. Maybe he should do as his Aunt Anne said – go down to see her the next time he had a free weekend, let her introduce him to people, work out a relationship the proper way. 

He made his way up to one of the second floor rooms that had long ago been the haunt of servants and children. Now it was where he put things that didn’t quite belong anywhere else, including an old piano that had been his father’s.

Edward pushed up the lid and, one-handed, idly played a phrase of _In the Bleak Midwinter_ , humming, “snow had fallen snow on snow…”

He closed his eyes, not needing to see the keys to play the old, familiar tune – instead, he could see Julia, standing in the doorway on that first evening, an impossible intruder, framed in light. Or the way she’d teased him with her questions over the Monopoly board. And in the kitchen, when he’d kissed her –

Oh, he shouldn’t have done that – only a light kiss, a moment of contact in the heightened emotion of that day, after the danger she’d been in – but he relived it. He could almost feel again the way she’d caught at his lapels, as if to pull him nearer, before the kettle had whistled and brought him back to his senses. 

“ _Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone_ ,” he sang under his breath, before snapping the piano lid shut. “Idiot,” he said. It was mere infatuation; it would pass as soon as it had come. It had brightened a grey and icy weekend. In return, he had saved her life. If he hadn’t been there, she might still have tried to walk back to the train station, so he had saved her life, and there was nothing to regret.

One thing he allowed himself – infatuation it might be, but it would take a little longer to pass than a week or two. It might not even be an impossible case. He’d have to find that out in time. And he went downstairs in search of a book.

(The words on the page were meaningless, and he drifted into a semi-dreaming state, in which Julia was there, laughing again, and asking impertinent questions.)

 

A couple of weeks later, a card came through the post. Edward opened it up to find that it was a polite thank you note from Julia for saving her life. She had included an address, but no telephone number, and it left him more at a loss than before. He ought to find out, to make certain, but it seemed so strongly to imply a closure on the odd little affair that he hesitated. Too long, he thought.

However, halfway through a February that continued to be nothing but ice and snow, a second card came, this one an invitation from Christy, to a party. That intrigued him. He wasn’t sure when it was he’d last seen Christy. He’d promised himself never to go to any party of Christy’s again, but the timing could hardly be a coincidence. And, whatever the case, he could at the very least make casual enquiries about Julia. It would impolite not to.

And the card did promise, in Christy’s scrawl, that it would not end like the last, which was something – if one could believe him.

When he made his way upstairs, he was smiling.

 

The party was in full swing, but Julia hung back by the bar, trying to keep a discreet eye on the door, playing with a straw while the nearby speaker blared out Roy Orbison singing _Dream Baby_. Her brother Christy crossed over to sit on the stool beside her, leaning on the counter.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s not like you to be a wallflower.” Then he followed her instinctive gaze to the door, and looked back at her. “This isn’t about Iveson, is it? _That’s_ why you wanted me to invite him? I did warn you he’ll probably never come to one of my parties again, not after the last time.”

Julia stared at her glass, not ready to explain that that was the point. In the few weeks since they had been back in London, while the snow went on falling and freezing, she hadn’t seen him at all. She had sent him a card to thank him for saving her life. (She wasn’t sure what the etiquette was on life-saving, but it seemed only right.) He had not written back or come to see her, though she was certain she had included her address.

She was sure, though, if she had invited him out somewhere herself, he would have agreed out of politeness whatever he really thought of her. It wasn’t a foolproof test, if he responded to Christy’s invitation after telling her himself that he wouldn’t do so again, then he surely must have some interest in her. 

“Ju,” said Christy, poking her and nodding to the door.

Julia followed his gaze to see Edward walking in, handing his coat to the attendant. He was taller than she remembered, and thinner – so much more awkwardly real. Her mouth went dry. 

“I mean, the thought did cross my mind when you asked,” said Christy, still at her side. “I wondered at first if maybe you’d lost your marbles. It’s been a rotten time, it would be understandable. But then I thought, well, I can see it. Iveson’s the reliable sort.”

Julia tore her gaze away from the door. “What?”

“If you’re serious, that is,” said Christy. “Otherwise, it’s a terrible idea. If you’re messing about or just want to give him a miserable evening, that’s not on. He’s on the priggish side, but he’s all right when you come down to it.” He paused, evidently watching Edward. “God. He’s wearing a suit and tie.”

Julia closed her eyes, her heart thudding. She suddenly wasn’t sure what she’d done, or what she wanted, but at the same time, she was triumphant. He was here. “Yes,” she said, lifting her head and trying to smile at Christy. “He is, I know. Very reliable. He makes porridge and comes looking for people who get lost in the snow.”

Christy shook his head at her incomprehensibility, then gave Edward a wave as he approached them, and offered him the stool. “Iveson. About time. My sister has been sitting here, eating her heart out over you, it seems. Put her out of her misery, do.”

Julia opened her mouth, realised there was nothing she could say to that and shut it again. 

“Christy,” said Edward, shaking his hand. He was biting back amusement at his greeting. “Good to see you again, although I’m holding you to your promise in the invitation, thank you.” He turned to Julia and smiled widely, light in his eyes; his face screwing up with undignified pleasure. “Miss Graves. We meet again.”

“I rather hoped,” said Julia, playing with her drink, “that you’d come and see me, or write. But you didn’t.”

Edward nodded. “My apologies. I assumed, when I got your card, that that was that. It seemed rather final to me. I’d have telephoned if you’d given me your number – I couldn’t find you in the book, either.”

“I don’t tend to give the phone number,” said Julia. She laughed, and shot a look at Christy.

Christy nodded. “For good reason. There’s the one phone in the flat, and if you ring up while happening to be male, you get interrogated by the landlady – which is bad enough, without getting the horror who lives next door to her. I tell Julia she can ring me if she wants me, I’m not ringing her!”

Edward laughed and raised his eyebrows at Julia.

“Mrs Andrews is very strait-laced,” said Julia. “But, Christy, it isn’t poor old Mrs McAllister’s fault. She really shouldn’t be there alone any more. But, you see,” she said to Edward, “she keeps telling callers the rest of us are variously dead or moved away. It’s a bit disconcerting for people who don’t know to expect it.”

“I can imagine it would be.” Edward shifted his position as Christy moved on to the dance floor. “So,” he added, catching her gaze, “tell me, was your brother right?”

“Well,” said Julia, “it _is_ true I was watching the door, and wishing you’d walk through it.”

He smiled again, more briefly. “Which seems hopeful at least. What if I asked you out sometime?”

“I’d like that,” she said, and slipped her hand into his.

Edward squeezed it in return. “How does tomorrow sound? Dinner somewhere?”

“Lovely,” said Julia. “Now dance with me.”

He shot the DJ an alarmed look. “Julia, I don’t wish to be disobliging, but –”

“Don’t panic,” she said, and hopped up, calling over to the DJ. “Brian, be an angel – something slower, for me.” He gave her a thumbs up and she grinned, and turned back to Edward. “Now will you?”

“With pleasure,” he said, and ushered her out onto the dance floor, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. _Twistin’ the Night Away_ faded into the less frenetic strains of _Like I Do_ , and she leant in against him, playing with his tie.

Edward glanced down at her as they moved in vague time to the music. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Are you?” she said, a little nettled. “Why would I say so if not?”

“I’m sorry. You rather bowled me over the moment you walked in the door that night.”

Julia bit back a desire to laugh. “You hid it well.”

“Did I?” said Edward. “It didn’t feel that way. But given the circumstances, even saying anything would have been highly inappropriate.”

“Kissing me was all right, of course,” Julia said. “I noticed that.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m not going to apologise for that now, am I? Julia, _are_ you sure?”

“Oh, God,” said Julia, and dragged him from the dance floor into the nearest corner she could find. He gave only the most unconvincing token of protest. Once there, she turned, and stretched up to kiss him. “No. Who ever is? But I don’t think I could live with myself if we didn’t try.”

Edward ceased objecting, and pulled her in nearer, kissing her again, uninterrupted by any inconvenient kettles.

Julia was the one who drew back this time, shivering in the draft from an open fire exit door.

“Do you think this winter will ever end?” Edward said, ushering her further along the wall, away from the others.

Julia leant in against him as he put his arms around her, her fingers curling around the fabric of his jacket. She had, she felt, in her own way, come back for him, and she wasn’t about to let go. “Yes,” she murmured. “Very soon, darling. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> It should be said that I got to the end of writing this and discovered that the train lines in the relevant part of Kent were closed down in 1961. I considered transposing this (as a standalone AU of an origfic canon) to the winter of 1947, but in the end I decided the simplest thing to do was to claim poetic license, rather than rewrite ~15,000 words. (The winter of 1962-3 was very bad, with a snowstorm between Christmas and New Year that was indeed interrupted by a brief thaw.) My apologies to any knowledgeable train lovers who read this. Maybe one tiny (magic) line got missed, who knows?


End file.
